


Per Unitatem Vis

by cathcer1984



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 15:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13744227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathcer1984/pseuds/cathcer1984
Summary: Harry finds notes in books. Draco can’t speak about how he feels. And they both find out they have more in common with the other than they think.





	Per Unitatem Vis

**Author's Note:**

> I know your prompt suggests more from Draco’s POV it seemed to want to be written mostly from Harry’s.  
> Beta’d by DR, FC and N. I’d like to thank them all for their help and for going above and beyond duty! Also a huge thanks to A for her moral support when I hit writer’s block about halfway through.  
> This has been tweaked since beta and any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Written for HDSmoochfest 2012 prompt 144

x~X~x

Looking around the now familiar room, Draco Malfoy kept a running inventory in his head. Nothing changed throughout the weeks. He had come in three times a week for the past two months and the bookshelf by the door still had the same books, set in the same order; the low coffee table still held a box of tissues and two glasses of water, and the seats were comfy and clean, usually occupied by himself and the Mind Healer.

“Draco, you come here week in, week out, and never say a word. The longer you remain silent the longer we’ll have to keep up these visits. I know it isn’t easy talking to a stranger about personal issues, but it helps.”

The Mind Healer - Tabitha, Draco reminds himself - sighs and sits forward, with her elbows resting on her knees, hands on the opposite forearm. “We’re going to do something a little different today. Instead of sitting in silence for an hour, I’m going speak. I’m going to tell you some home truths, things you won’t want to hear.

“Severus Snape. Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort.” Draco’s eyes darted towards Tabitha’s for a moment, before he went back to staring at the table. “Lucius Malfoy. All of these men have been figureheads in your life and all of them have let you down, haven’t they? Dumbledore never saw you as an individual, as a good student. You were always on the wrong side for him. And when you tried to kill him, to get one over him, Severus Snape took that victory-” she said the word tightly, “-away from you. You were then punished by Voldemort for Severus’ interference, weren’t you? He used the Cruciatus Curse on you and he probably laughed. He broke your trust in his leadership. Then there is your father, pushing you to your limits. They’re all gone now. Aren’t they, Draco? Dead or in Azkaban. Who do you look up to, now? Who tells you what to do?”

Silence settled over them and Draco saw, out of the corner of his eye, Tabitha push her blond hair behind her ear, lips pursed as she contemplated him. Draco didn’t move.

“There is one other person we haven’t mentioned, isn’t there? One man who has been a large part of your life for a while. . He is someone you want to like you and be your friend. You want him to save you again.”

Draco’s vision blurred while Tabitha’s soft whisperings floated through him and sunk deep into his skin; he could see the eleven year old boy who had rejected him melding into the powerful man who had defeated Voldemort.

“Harry Potter,” Draco whispered.

Tabitha froze.

Draco said again, “Harry Potter.”

“What would you like to say to Harry Potter, Draco? Do you want to thank him? Shout at him?”

Not knowing what to say, Draco shrugged and glanced up, meeting Tabitha’s kind brown eyes. She smiled softly at him. “I tell you what. You’re going back to Hogwarts this Wednesday and our visits are going to be reduced to once a week, so I want you to write down what you would to say to Harry Potter if you had the chance. You don’t have to show it to him; you don’t even have to show it to me. No one has to read it, but I do want you to write down how you feel about him, about everything. Okay? Will you do that for me, Draco?”

Tabitha smiled as Draco nodded.

x~X~x

“It’s good to be back, isn’t it?” Hermione asked Harry and Ron as she looked around the Great Hall. There were still chips in the stone and cracks in the tables, but it looked like the same old Hogwarts, if one discounted that, standing in Dumbledore’s place, was McGonagall, watching benevolently as Professor Sprout led the new first-years towards the front of the room.

Harry tuned out as the Hat sang its song and glanced at the faces of the students. He grinned at Luna, as she waved at him from the Ravenclaw table, but his eyes were searching out a different blond.

Watching Malfoy watch the Sorting was not a new experience for Harry, but it was new seeing him alone, not surrounded by his friends and holding court. He’d been quiet on the train. All the returning eighth-years, as they were being called, had shared a compartment and Malfoy had simply sat at the back, letting everyone ignore him even as he watched them all in return. Likewise, he seemed to want nothing to with the returning Slytherins, despite Parkinson’s attempts to talk to him.

Suddenly, grey eyes met Harry’s and he was frozen, unable to look away, until Ron jostled his arm as he reached for the mashed potatoes. Not hungry anymore, Harry picked at some food. He noticed that Malfoy didn’t eat a thing.

When the Welcoming Feast was over, Hermione pulled Harry along with her as they made their way to the Eighth Year common room and dormitory on the second floor. Harry looked around until he saw that Malfoy was following the group of eighth-years, quietly and a few paces behind them.

“Per unitatem vis," Neville said, approaching the portrait first.

Tense with anticipation, Harry entered the common room. He was pleased to find it similar to Gryffindor’s in layout, with comfortable chairs and couches of neutral tones neatly set around the room, with mahogany tables and a fireplace. The banners of all four Houses were hung along the wall opposite the fireplace and the staircases leading to each dorm was on either side of the wall.

Harry went up to find his bed, Ron right behind him. They found there was only one door at the top of the stairs. Glancing warily at Ron, who shrugged, Harry opened it to find a larger form of their old dorm. Instead of four beds, there were seven. Harry found his trunk was placed in front of the bed nearest the door, Ron’s bed next to his and Neville’s after Ron’s.

Opposite to Harry and Ron’s, was one in Hufflepuff colours and one Ravenclaw’s, for Ernie MacMillan and Terry Boot. Opposite of Neville’s bed, was a Slytherin one and, underneath the window, was another; one for Malfoy and one for Zabini.

Harry sat down on his bed, took off his tie and started to unbutton his shirt, when the door opened and Malfoy came in. The three of them froze and eyed each other, before Harry forced himself to look away from the spectre-like Malfoy. He shrugged off his shirt and, when he looked up again, Malfoy was gone and Ron was staring at the closed curtains around the bed with a contemplative look on his face.

“What?” Harry asked, but his friend just shook his head and smiled. Harry grinned back and shut his own curtains saying, “‘Night, mate,” before shucking his trousers into a pool at the bottom of his bed and sliding between the sheets. He took care to cast a Silencing Charm, before falling asleep. He didn’t want to wake anyone with his nightmares. Neville and Ron were used to them, but the others weren’t, and he didn’t want anyone to treat him more differently than they already did.

x~X~x

The first week passed by rather quickly for Harry, as he became accustomed to the routine again. After a while, he started to avoid the younger students, who mostly wanted his autograph, or simply to see him and giggle. Harry had taken to hiding in the back tables at the library, as they were less used than the others, much to Hermione’s delight and Ron’s disgust. Occasionally, he thought he saw Malfoy there, but was never too sure if it was his blond hair behind the bookshelves, or just a trick of the light.

Harry had also taken to doing his homework in advance. During the second week of the term, he was working on a Potions essay for Slughorn, due in two weeks’ time. In his research, he found a reference to the Moste Potente Potions, which was placed in the Restricted Section, and Harry couldn’t get to it without a signed note for a teacher. He ended up searching for an old copy of Advanced Potion Making, so as to not delay his work. When he found it, he headed back to his table, sighing at the weight of the book. It made a loud thump when he dropped it beside his notes and half-written essay.

Opening the book, Harry flicked through the pages, looking for the potion he wanted, but instead came across a thin piece of parchment, folded between the pages. Frowning, Harry pulled it from the book and unfolded it gently. As he read the words, he grew more and more confused.

 _I want to you hate you, but I can’t anymore, and I’m not sure I ever did. You didn’t want to be my friend, so you had to become my enemy. I don’t want that anymore, I just want_...

The note stopped there, as if the writer had been interrupted, or maybe didn’t know what they wanted. Harry sat there staring at the words, wondering who wrote them and why they affected Harry so much. He folded the note again and put it in his pocket. He was searching the books for more notes when Hermione found him.

Unwillingly, he let her draw him from the library and into their mostly empty common room, then up to his dorm. They sat on his bed and Hermione demanded to know about the notes. He had found three in total, and they were laid on the bed between them.

The second note Harry found made him sad for the writer, and more determined to find them. _I haven’t told anyone that I’m gay. I wanted you to be the first, but I’m not allowed to. To be gay. I dream about holding you tightly. I dream about us smiling and kissing. I dream about you._

Harry could relate to that. He and Ginny had had a spat at the Burrow over the summer, as she wanted to get back together, but he wasn’t sure. Harry had told her not to wait, because he couldn’t be sure he wanted to go back to her, or to any woman, as a matter of fact. Harry was almost certain he was gay, something he had only shared with Ginny, Hermione - who claimed to have known this all along - and Ron

The last note scared Harry. _Sometimes, I think I don’t deserve to live. Why should I? When better people, good people who deserved to live, are dead? You give me hope in a way you always have, and I wish. I wish. I wish._

“I think they are writing to someone specific, rather than a general you,” Hermione said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She opened her mouth to say more, but someone came into the room. Harry turned to see Malfoy staring at them, eyes going from the pieces of parchment to Harry’s face. He sneered, before stalking away, slamming the door shut behind him.

“That was odd,” Harry commented, staring at the door for a moment longer. He and Hermione went over the notes and tried to figure out anything about the writer, until Harry glanced at his watch. “Bloody hell! I have to go or I’m going to be late.”

“Go, Harry. I’ll clear this up.” Hermione laughed as he fell off the bed in his hurry out of the door.

Making his way as fast as he could up to the Hospital Wing, Harry burst through the doors to see Malfoy leaving Madam Pomfrey’s office. They both froze when they saw each other and were brought out of their trance when Tabitha came out and said, “Harry, come on in. I’ll see you next week, Draco.”

Malfoy flushed and started walking towards Harry, never taking his eyes off him. Harry walked forward and they passed each other in the middle of the Infirmary. Harry turned his head to watch Malfoy leave, eyes inadvertently falling to Malfoy’s backside, before Harry shook himself and watched his blond head until Malfoy was out of sight, watching until the blond was out of sight.

Turning to face his Mind Healer, Harry grinned at the contemplative expression on her face. She said nothing until they were seated opposite each other. “So, where did we get to last week?”

“You know where,” Harry laughed, “you always do.”

Tabitha said nothing and they sat in silence for a while, until Harry broke it with an awkward, “So, Malfoy?”

“You know I can’t talk about another patient with you, Harry,” Tabitha admonished.

“But I can talk about him, can’t I?”

Tabitha’s eyes narrowed. “And why would you want to do that?”

“Because he’s been in my life since I was eleven. He’s always been there, not supportive or anything, but constant and I guess this year he’s not. Malfoy’s not saying a thing to anyone. He doesn’t even say anything in class.”

“You sound quite concerned about Draco.”

“I guess I am. He barely eats his meals, if he shows up at all. He doesn’t have any friends anymore. He’s like a ghost. Except they’re more social. It’s worrying that he’s so quiet and timid. Draco Malfoy should not be timid!”

“Why does it matter what Draco is, or isn’t?”

“I-.” Harry flushed. He wasn’t entirely sure. Why did Draco matter so much to him? “During our sixth year,” Harry started hesitatingly, “Malfoy was acting oddly and I thought he was up to something, something bad, so I followed him around and obsessed over him. At least, that’s what Hermione says. But I was right, he was up to something. Now. Now, I don’t think he’s up to anything, but I can’t help but to obsess over him again.”

“You know why you’re obsessing over Draco, Harry. Don’t you?”

Flushing, Harry ducked his head. “I suppose I do,” he mumbled, not yet willing to admit it out loud and make it real.

x~X~x

The following week, Harry had found more notes and, with Hermione’s help, and Ron who they filled in about the notes, figured out that the writer was someone who shared all his classes: Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic.

The only suspects were Harry himself, though he was most certainly not writing the notes, Neville, Malfoy, Parkinson, Hannah and Terry. Harry could safely rule out Neville. He automatically assumed it wasn’t either Slytherin, simply because they wouldn’t be so careless to write down such personal thoughts and leave them for a stranger to find. So he tried to get close to Hannah and Terry to find out if they were the ones.

He hid under his Invisibility Cloak in the library, watching Hannah and Neville studying together. When he got bored, Harry’s eyes started to wander, and he started watching Malfoy instead. He was writing furiously. Harry took the time to watch him. Harry knew Malfoy probably felt ashamed that he spoke to a Mind Healer at all, especially the same Mind Healer that Harry Potter spoke to.

x~X~x

Unable to make sense of what was going on in his head Harry headed out for a walk around the lake during dinner. He knew he wouldn’t be disturbed and it meant that he could think about Draco and the notes and everything.

Harry froze as he came to the shore of the lake and spotted a figure squatting on the shore. The bright blonde hair made him pause but when he looked harder he realised that the hair was long and flowing forward over the person’s shoulder. Smiling Harry headed forward, “Hello Luna.”

“Hello Harry. Night nice for it.”

“For what?”

“Thinking” Luna glanced up at him and waved her hands about splashing water everywhere, “I can see the Wrackspurts. You’re head’s full of them.”

“Uh,” Harry said unintelligently. “Right. Thanks Luna” he turned to walk away.

“You know Harry sometimes the answer to the problem we can’t solve is right in front of our face. I think you already know who you’re looking for” Luna called after him and Harry turned around to ask her what she meant but she was walking off, waving at him.

Behind her Harry caught sight of the ethereal glowing of the white marble of Dumbledore’s tomb, hesitating for a moment Harry soon made his way over and sat down beside it. He rested a hand on the cool surface before closing his eyes.

“Hello sir” Harry said aloud after picturing Dumbledore in his head. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment and the Dumbledore in his head smiled and he opened his eyes checking that no one was around. Sure that he was alone Harry continued talking to his mentor, “These notes are driving me crazy. I can’t leave them alone and I can’t stop watching Malfoy either, I don’t know which is more annoying. Hermione’s been a great help with the notes and Ron.”

Dumbledore smiled at Harry but the image faded as Malfoy’s face came into his mind, vivid in its bleakness. It was how he looked when they met outside Tabitha’s makeshift office at the Hospital Wing, pale and withdraw and sad. That struck Harry the most, he was sad almost as if he was giving up on himself, on love, on his friends, on life. It was as if he felt he didn’t deserve any of those things.

Gasping Harry saw Dumbledore’s face wink at him before he opened his eyes. Malfoy had to be writing those notes. It made sense to Harry right now; he was obsessed with both the notes and Draco they had to be related.

With a whispered “Thank you” Harry ran up to the castle slipping inside and running into Ron and Hermione in the Entrance Hall. “Hey Harry” Ron called out, “dinner’s still being served if you’re hungry.” Ron looked hopeful as if he’d be able to have seconds; Hermione rolled her eyes affectionately at him.

“Yeah, I think I will have some tea now” Harry nudged Ron with his shoulder and they jostled each other as they headed into the Great Hall.

Looking over at the Slytherin table once he’d sat down Harry caught sight of Malfoy by himself at the end of the table. When the blond finally looked up Harry offered him a tentative smile which grew when Malfoy blinked at him in shock before his lips quirked upwards in an almost smile.

x~X~x

Harry was extremely confused about how Draco Malfoy made him feel. Over the next few weeks they had exchanged tentative smiles and brief ‘hellos’ when they saw each other in empty hallways. Harry was grateful for Tabitha because she was helping him face his issues about the war and his sexuality and now about Malfoy. The blond was constantly on his mind, Harry thought about him during the trivial things each day; how did Malfoy take his tea? Did he enjoy potions, or was he just good at it?

Shaking his head, Harry tried to dispel the thoughts. They wouldn’t get him anywhere and would only drive him crazy. Tugging his glasses off his face and tossing them down onto the table, Harry pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, until bright spots burst behind the lids.

Sighing in frustration, Harry pushed his glasses back on and glanced around the library, catching sight of Malfoy watching him, who flushed and placed a piece of parchment into the book he was studying from. He closed it and, gathering up his bag, headed out.

Harry watched him go with a frown on his face. Malfoy’s behaviour was not odd, but something about it niggled at Harry, until he too shut his book. Slowly, mind elsewhere, he packed up his belongings. His eyes drifted to Malfoy’s neglected book and he had to force himself to look away. The world was dark outside the windows. Harry had a feeling he was missing dinner, considering how empty the library was. It easier for him to look for what Malfoy had been working on.

Approaching the desk, Harry picked up the book lying innocently on it and flicked through the pages until he came across a piece of parchment tucked between the pages. Part of him was not surprised.

_Tabitha told me that writing down our emotions is easier than talking about them. I agreed and started to write down what I was feeling. My feelings seem to always pertain to you in a way. I hated you, I loved you, I wanted you dead. I want you right next to me. Now. You make me feel angry, you make me feel safe, you make me feel—I suppose that’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? You make me feel. The question remains, what do you feel, when you think about me? If anything at all._

_All this is making me feel like I’m drowning. Will you save me, Harry? Will you save me from the water, as you saved me from the fire?_

Harry read the note for the third time. All along, it had been Draco and he had been writing to Harry. Harry glanced at the last line and felt cold fear grip him. He rushed out of the library, his mind a blur of what Draco would do. There was only one place he could be: the lake.

Out on the grounds, Harry rushed towards the Black Lake. The lights from the castle’s windows threw everything into stark relief and he could make out the outline of a dark body, lying on the shore of the lake still and immobile, with waves lapping around it.

Harry tripped and stumbled, in his hurry to get closer to Malfoy. “Draco!” Harry cried out, panic seizing his chest and making his voice crack.

Draco turned to face Harry. “What, Potter?” he drawled, pushing himself up onto his elbows to glare at Harry, who fell to his knees a few feet from Draco.

“Oh god—I thought you were—I didn’t know—I couldn’t let you—,” Harry rambled, trying to get out what he was thinking; his arms were moving frantically, and he saw Draco’s face clearly flush in the bright light coming from the castle. Draco was staring at the piece of parchment in Harry’s hand.

“You—you read that.”

“I thought you, er, meant for me to . . . .” Harry trailed off when Draco’s eyes narrowed.

“Then you decided to come out here and, what? Mock me? Humiliate me?”

“No!” Harry ran his free hand through his hair. “I got the impression—you say here about drowning and I—I thought—.” Harry was cut off by Draco’s sharp laughter.

“You thought I was going to kill myself? I didn’t make it through the war just to off myself in a lake over some feelings,” Draco sneered.

Harry slumped down. “Oh.” He frowned and looked at the letter again. The feelings in it were clear. Maybe Malfoy was hiding behind his sneer, because he couldn’t talk comfortably about his feelings, now that he had Harry in front of him. Summoning every ounce of his Gryffindor courage, Harry said, “You make me feel, too.”

Draco froze.

“You make me feel like I’m going mental.”

“Charming."

“Damn it, Draco!” Harry cried out, frustrated. “I’m trying to tell you that I like you and you’re being sarcastic. You asked me to hel—save you and I’m trying to save you from yourself, so you—I don’t want to end up alone and I doubt you do either. I’m trying to say that I want to get to know you. I’m attracted to you and, right now, I want to kiss you! But you’re being a right twat!”

Breathing heavily, Harry waited for Draco to react, but he didn’t. He just stared at Harry, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

Harry closed his eyes wearily and got to his feet. He only opened his eyes when he turned around, then began the trek towards the castle.

“I’m sorry.” The whisper floated on the wind. Harry wasn’t sure he’d heard it properly, but he turned anyway, only to find Draco standing with his shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets, looking to the entire world vulnerable. “It’s not easy for me. I don’t, I can’t, talk to Tabitha, but I can write to you and I, I am, talking to you in a way.”

Draco bit his lip and looked down at the ground. Harry strode forward and cupped his pale, angular face in his hands. “It’s not easy for anyone, but we can learn together.” Draco’s lips curled upwards, before Harry swooped in to taste his smile, softly kissing the pliant mouth beneath his own.

Long-fingered hands gripped the front of his robes and pulled Harry closer. Breathless, Harry moved away from Draco’s lips and rested their foreheads together and looked into Draco’s smiling grey eyes. It wasn’t going to be easy, they both knew that, but as long as Harry could have Draco smiling, he would do whatever it took.

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> Per unitatem vis=through unity, strength


End file.
